Fake
by xytera
Summary: Fake. Everything about him is fake from his wide, impish smiles to his bright, cheerful blue eyes. Why am I the only one to see how his predatory gaze strokes my body and his leering smirk curve his lips? NaruGaa AU
1. The Offer of Falsity

A/N: My first yaoi story. Just setting up the story here. Will get more intimate later on. Told in Gaara's POV.

Warnings: This is yaoi, which means boy on boy. If you're uncomfortable with this, please find something else to read. Thanks.

Credits to Kishimoto Masashi for the characters. The story is mine.

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**Chapter 1: The Offer of Falsity  
**

* * *

I can feel it again. That familiar sensation of awareness coiling in my belly and the tiny hairs rising on the back of my neck. Swiveling my head, I immediately catch sight of the cause.

Brilliant golden hair and mirthful sky blue eyes. You are dressed in your usual bright orange t-shirt, this time with dark blue sleeves and well-worn blue jeans. Today, you wear dark blue sandals rather than your usual white sneakers. Our eyes meet for a brief, time-freezing second before you turn and heartily laugh at the joke told by one of the many students surrounding you.

Fake.

I turn away in disgust. Everything about you is fake from your wide, impish smiles to your bright, cheerful blue eyes. I don't know why no one can see through your cheery mask. You insist on behaving like a bumbling fool despite your popularity, but I can see through it. I have glimpsed those rare instances when your true self bleeds through, when your smiling gaze sharpens with astuteness, when your sunny smile twists into a sneer. I can tell you detest those admiring students and even the fawning faculty who gather to you like moths to light. Yet I still cannot figure out why you continue with your disgusting façade when you so obviously cannot stand them.

Uzumaki Naruto, you are a fake, and I can see through your act.

I am the only one, and you know this well, which is why I can feel your intense gaze burning into the back of my head as I walk away from your guise. But I have no interest in you, so you do not have to worry I will reveal your secret.

The bell rings, signaling the beginning of class. I adjust my sand-colored backpack over one shoulder, striding leisurely despite the rushing crowd of students. Then I arrive to class in a timely manner like usual and take my seat in the back next to the window, dropping my backpack next to my seat. Students trickle in as the last warning bell rings. I rest my chin on my knuckles and gaze out the window, awaiting the familiar scene which will occur in a few seconds.

"Made it! Sorry, Iruka-sensei!"

As expected, you rush in with dramatic flair just as the last of the bell echoes through the hallways and classrooms. I'm turned towards the window, but I can easily see you scratching the back of your head with an unapologetic, mischievous grin on your face like you do every day.

"Just find your seat, Uzumaki-kun," Iruka-sensei sighs, having long given up on having you get to class on time.

You make your way to the back, greeting students on the way, where your seat lies on the opposite side of the classroom with your pack of 'friends'. They immediately gather to you. I cannot understand how being tardy makes you popular, and from the faculty's constant scolding, you are doing poor in your classes. This puzzles me, because I have seen your calculating gaze and intelligent spark in your eyes, but perhaps it is simply because it is not geared towards your academic studies.

"How are you late? You were right behind me…"

The conversation slips into whispers as Iruka-sensei begins class. I vaguely recognize the voice but I don't recall a name. The fuzzy image of a scruffy broad-shouldered student with wild brown hair comes to mind. I remember seeing him unknowingly jog past my house every morning with a mammoth-sized white dog bounding at his side.

I frown, wondering when I started to remember the students you usually hang out with. When had this begun? This peculiar relationship – could it even be considered a relationship? – between us. Ah, wait, I remember now. Our unfortunate meeting I had unsuccessfully tried to purge from my mind. Three and a half months ago, when I arrived at Konoha High School as a new transfer student. I don't think you would have ever paid attention to me if it had not been for that single meeting.

Suna is – had been – my home since I was a child. I did not miss my home as it had never been a happy place for me, but I did miss the dry desert air and the perfect silence. After my seventeenth birthday, my two siblings and I moved to the town of Konoha. I had hated it the moment I laid eyes on it – and I still did. Surrounded by forests and small lakes, Konoha's air is moist and humid and most importantly, the town is _loud_. Not just the regular bustling of residents, but the constant calls of friendly neighbors and endless sounds of the surrounding forests are impossible to ignore. The complete opposite of Suna.

The first day of school was the worst. Whereas Suna raises their children in a strict militaristic style, Konoha is complete chaos. Students don't pay attention in class and disregarded faculty. They eat lunch during class, nap, play cards, text on their phones and basically do everything they aren't supposed to. I have no desire to mingle with these people, and the students quickly learned this within the first few days of my arrival.

Except for one.

It was impossible to not notice you. I immediately was able to recognize you as the type of student I generally avoid. You were loud, noisy, and popular. Your colors were almost blinding, and I think I detested you on sight. When you first approached me and introduced yourself as _'Nice to meet you, I'm Uzumaki Naruto! Sabaku no Gaara was it?' _I did not answer. Your presence was not desired, and I made sure my stance and glare let you know. Imagine my surprise when you didn't back off like the other students I had taciturnly disregarded.

I don't think you cared to know me, either, but you only did so because it was expected of you. They thought you friendly, determined, and welcoming, so of course you kept your fake image up and continued to try and befriend me. It only took me one look to see through your friendly smiles and jovial words.

_"Stop it,"_ I had finally said, fed up with your persistence when you had cornered me alone in the bathroom. _"Why do you continue this?"_

_"Because I want to be your friend,"_ you had automatically answered, your false merriment making me want to retch.

_"No you don't,"_ I had told you. _"You're only doing this to amuse yourself."_

_"What are you talking about?"_ you had smiled with feigned innocence. _"I just want to be friends with you."_

I should have stopped there had I known the repercussions that would happen afterwards.

_"Stop lying. Your charade is disgusting to watch, and I want no part of it,"_ I had said coldly.

I think that was when you realized I saw through your pretense. Even though I had known this, it had still been a little shocking to see the smiling face fall off like a discarded napkin as you scrutinized me with sharp, penetrating eyes. Then you smiled. It wasn't cheerful, it wasn't friendly, it was simply neutral.

_"You're interesting,"_ you merely said, that unsettling smile still in place.

And then your fake smile smoothly returned when someone walked into the restroom. You amiably greeted the student, sending a merry _'See you later, Gaara'_ over your shoulder as you sauntered out like nothing had just occurred. That odd episode had been disturbing, but I had brushed it off as unimportant.

I should have realized sooner the meaning of your words.

Barely a day had passed before the oddest sensation of being watched fell over me. When I had looked up into your mocking blue eyes, I had known from then on that any semblance of peace I could wring from this hateful school setting was utterly lost.

Three and a half months later, aside from the casual greetings and the stares you direct at me, we do not speak, or rather,_ I_ do not speak a word to you. I find myself frequently tense and irritated. I simply want to be left alone, but it is impossible when you so openly let your presence be known. Yet again, I wonder how no one catches on to your façade.

"Sabaku-san?"

I jolt out of my thoughts when I hear my name being called. Glancing away from the window to the front of the class, I see Iruka-sensei looking at me curiously and realize he has probably been calling me name for a while now. A familiar blue-eyed gaze rests on me, but I disregard it and easily school my features into an expressionless appearance.

"I apologize. I was not paying attention," I say solemnly.

The class doesn't laugh as they would have if it had been a certain blond. They are uncertain about me, so they remain quiet. Iruka-sensei continues with his lecture. I can still feel you looking at me, but I am determined to ignore you. My irritation rises once again, but I push any thoughts about you away. You have invaded my life enough. I am certain if I continue to ignore you, you will cease your annoying stares. At least, I hope so because three and a half months _is_ a long time, and my limited patience is wearing thin.

Thankfully, you return your attention back to whispering with your friends and class goes on uneventfully.

**-~~o0O0o~~-**

"Welcome home, Gaara," Temari, my sister and eldest sibling, greets me when I walk through the door.

I grunt a reply, kicking off my shoes and brushing past her. Used to this, she simply returns to the kitchen and resumes preparing dinner. Kankuro, my older brother, is probably still in school participating in his club activities. Both of my siblings attend Konoha University; Temari being a sophomore and Kankuro a freshman in college. I suppose I will attend there as well after I finish my last two years of high school. The thought isn't appealing, and figuring it is still too far away to think about, I put it out of my thoughts and head upstairs to my room.

We rent an old three-bedroom house. It is small and compact with a kitchen, living room, and a tiny bathroom, but it suits our needs. Temari works part-time as a tutor during the day and waitresses at a local restaurant during the evenings. On top of that, she attends her classes full-time. Kankuro attends full-time as well and works in a small toy shop owned by a distant cousin of ours. They insist I do not need to work, and unfortunately, Konoha High does not allow students to maintain jobs. I do not reveal it, but it is vaguely upsetting. I never had a good relationship with my siblings, but I acknowledge it is because of them I am able to gain some freedom from the shackling household back in Suna.

The memories of my old hometown are depressing, and I do not want to reminisce in them. Instead, I toss my backpack on the hardwood floor and sit on my bed. I had left the lights off, but the dim light peeking through the shutters are enough for me to see.

The room is small, as is the other rooms in the house. There is only a bed, dresser, and desk with a chair. My room is clean and neat and mostly bare. The room is not personalized since I do not care to personalize it. Temari had acquired some cheap carpeting and other furnishings from garage sales. Most of the furnishings are unmatched. There is a rectangle-shaped puke-green carpet on the floor next to my bed. The desk is shoved next to the bed with a black lamp on the desk. My sheets are blue, the pillowcases checkered red and white, and the blanket is an ugly mix of reddish brown. The walls are plain white but there is a yellowish tint to them, and the paint is old and peeling. Old mold spots in the corners of the ceiling and floors are noticeable as well as water stains in the ceiling. Most of the house is similar to this, but the rent is cheap and that's all that matters.

I don't know how long I sat in the darkness, but I am brought to awareness from my perch on the bed when I hear the door downstairs open with Kankuro calling out, "I'm home!" and Temari's answering reply, "Welcome home. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes." The normalness of it all is strange because I realize my siblings are doing it for my sake. My childhood was not a particularly happy one. Directing my thoughts away from that, I slowly stand. My right leg had fallen asleep quite a while ago, so I shake it out, feeling the tingling sensation run through it as the blood flow rushes back.

By the time I am able to feel my leg, Temari has called me down for dinner. Dinner is often awkward, but Temari tries her best to make it feel like a normal family setting. She asks about my day, and I make an effort to reply because I know it's me who is making it awkward. She is satisfied with my short answers, though, and questions Kankuro about his day. I idly listen, picking at my food. Kankuro is involved in some kind of handmade wooden puppet club. They're going to have a puppet show in a couple months. He hesitantly asks if I would like to go see it. I simply nod, and both he and Temari look relieved.

Dinner ends quickly because both Temari and Kankuro must leave for work. Since I don't work, I clean up the table and wash dishes afterwards. Washing laundry and tidying the house are also part of my responsibilities. The house is eerily silent with both of them gone. Once I place the last of the dishes in the dish rack to dry, I return to my room, this time flipping on the light switch.

Homework is the next part of my routine. I sit at my desk, pulling out books and folders from my backpack. I am not an exceptionally outstanding student; my grades are a little above average, and it is enough to keep the teachers satisfied. Without any particular goal in mind, I have no incentive to do better.

Homework goes by swiftly. By the time I am finished, it is only eight o'clock. I take a quick shower, dress in my pajamas consisting of an old t-shirt and loose sweats, and return to my room to reorganize my books and folders back into my backpack. With nothing else to do, I sit cross-legged on my bed and read, a recently discovered favorite pastime of mine. There is no particular genre I enjoy – I read pretty much anything and everything that comes my way. The little public library I had found several weeks ago while walking through the town has become a sort of sanctuary for me during the weekends. In this noisy town, the library is the only place I can find peace and quiet. While my siblings are at work and the house is empty, I walk to the library, find a quiet space, and read all day. Sometimes I drop by during the weekdays after school to pick up a few books as well. By now, the librarians have come to recognize me, greeting me by name whenever I come. How proud my siblings would be if they knew I would quietly greet them back.

The sound of keys and the door opening causes me to look up from my book and glance at the digital alarm clock on my desk. It is nearly eleven thirty. Kankuro is the first to come home while Temari comes home a little after midnight. I get off the bed, placing a bookmark between the pages and setting the book onto my desk. My siblings generally do not announce their arrival after they come back from work, perhaps thinking it might disturb me from my schoolwork or because they are simply too tired. I think it is the latter.

I listen to Kankuro's heavy footsteps downstairs. His is the only bedroom located downstairs while both Temari and I are upstairs. He is often too exhausted to shower before he goes to bed, so he just washes his face and brushes his teeth before he changes his into his pajamas and collapses into bed. Temari does nearly the exact same. In the morning, they both get up early to shower before heading to school and repeating the same routine.

I walk over to the light switch to turn it off before climbing back on my bed. Scooting until my back touches the wall, I draw my knees to my chest, cross my arms over them, and place my head against my crossed forearms. I am tired, but I know I will not fall asleep for hours. Insomnia, the doctors had told me. I have had it since I was a child.

Half an hour later, I hear Temari return. It is not until nearly four in the morning when I doze off into a dreamless sleep.

**-~~o0O0o~~-**

I managed to sleep for approximately two hours. If I am lucky, I might sleep for two and a half hours or even broach the three hour stretch. Usually, I am up before my siblings.

By six thirty, Temari is up and kicking a grumbling Kankuro out of bed. I am already downstairs by that time, dressed in my usual long-sleeved shirt and jeans, pouring freshly brewed coffee into a muddy-colored mug. I started the habit of making a simple breakfast for them in the morning. The first time I did it two weeks ago, they had both froze in the doorway, staring at me like I was an alien. I simply set the two plates of toast, scrambled eggs, and breakfast sausages on the table with two glasses of orange juice before casually slipping past them and heading to my room, coffee mug in hand. They never commented on the sudden change, perhaps sensing I would not appreciate it, but I could tell they were happy, and this became part of the unspoken routine we had quietly created since moving to Konoha.

They both enter the kitchen, mumbling good morning, Kankuro yawning widely while Temari sits at the table and nibbles tiredly at her breakfast. While they eat breakfast, I typically go to my room and sit idly at my desk, sipping coffee until they leave for class. Then, I would go back downstairs, clean up the dishes, and walk to school.

Today, I lean against the counter and sip from my mug, gazing at nothing in particular. They both glance at me before looking at each other but soon resumed eating. The silence is comfortable this time.

"See you later, Gaara. Have a nice day at school," Temari calls as she and Kankuro leave to catch the bus to the university. They rarely use the small car in the driveway unless absolutely necessary. Gas, after all, did cost money we could not afford to spend.

I don't reply, instead gathering the dishes and placing them in the sink. Once the dishes are done, I go to my room to pick up my backpack. It takes twenty minutes to walk to school, and I usually have about the same amount of time before class starts.

The walk is quiet since most students would be having their last minutes of sleep before preparing for the day and rushing to class. The rare quietness suits me fine, so I have no complaints. Halfway to school, however, I suddenly hear my name being called. Since the voice is vaguely familiar, I automatically turn to glance behind me. The sight makes me wish I had ignored it.

"Hey, Gaara, wait up!" Dressed in your standard gaudy orange, this time an orange sweatshirt with tan cargo pants, you jog towards me and flash a blindingly fake smile.

Without answering, I turn away and resume walking as if you are not there. Funny how I forget about you when I am at home. It must be only at school, I think, when your assertive presence forces yourself into my thoughts.

"Hey, that's not nice," you whine, finally catching up and obtrusively walking at my side.

Five minutes of trying to block out your insistent chatter and drawling out my name in attempt to annoy me finally brings me to a halt. You stop as well, and I glimpse the mischievous curl to your lips. You have done it purposely; I have fallen into your childish game.

"Uzumaki," I practically growl. "Leave me alone."

You smirk playfully, pleased I have finally spoken to you since our first meeting. "But I'm heading in the same direction as you."

My eyes narrow dangerously, and I somehow resist the urge to punch your smug face. Turning away, I determinedly continue on the way to school, intent on ignoring you. Perhaps I am too intent on ignoring you, because suddenly a shout sounds with the screech of tires on asphalt. A hand snatches my upper arm, pulling me into an unexpected embrace. My whole body stiffens in surprise.

"Watch it, bastard!" you shout, shaking your fist in the direction of the car which had almost run me over.

I think I'm more shocked you grabbed me than the car almost running me over. I vaguely hear you asking if I'm okay.

"Let go," I say, trying to pull away.

You blink at me, and I am suddenly wary when a gleam comes to your eye. I find myself abruptly drawn into a tight embrace. Shock makes me frozen for an instant before I attempt to shove you away, but you're stronger than you look because you barely budge.

"Aw, are you embarrassed, Gaara?" you tease, squeezing me tightly, obviously done to make me uncomfortable.

I look up at you, belatedly realizing you're taller than me by a couple inches, and try to murder you with my glare.

"Let me go now before I _kill_ you," I enunciate each word deliberately with deadly intent.

Your taunting grin relays that you are not the least bit afraid of my threat. "Wanna try?"

"Uzu_maki_," I grit out, barely reigning in my temper.

You laugh, the sound vibrating from your chest against me, and suddenly I am released. I quickly take several steps back, scowling darkly when you quirk a blond brow, amused. Turning away once again, I ignore you, this time more careful about my surroundings.

By the time we reach the school gates, I'm silently fuming and trying not to submit to the urge of committing the heinous crime of murder. You had hummed obnoxiously the rest of the way to school, no doubt doing it intentionally to aggravate me, and unfortunately, it had worked flawlessly.

I stride to class with you following behind, this time whistling a cheery tune which does nothing to alleviate my negative mood. Students greet you as you pass, eyeing me a bit warily, no doubt because of the black scowl situated on my face. You don't pause to chat with the students as I hope, but instead reply with – in my opinion – over-exaggerated enthusiasm which seems almost mocking. Still, no one seems to notice.

When I reach the classroom and head straight to my seat, it is almost a relief. Or at least, it was supposed to be. I drop my backpack on the floor and turn, nearly crashing into you because you're standing so close. You peer down at me, that damnable smirk on your face, unseen by the others in the classroom because your back is to them.

"What are you doing, Uzumaki? Your seat is over _there_," I growl lowly once I get over the shock, looking pointedly at your seat across the room for emphasis and ignoring the stares of your friends and the students in the classroom.

"I know," you reply unconcernedly. "But you're always alone, and I thought you would like a friend to talk to."

I stare at you in disbelief. Behind your generous words, I can tell you are trying not to laugh. The students in the classroom are watching, having heard your words and stupidly believing everything you say, looking at me expectantly. To them, if I turn your offer down, I will no doubt be the bad person, and you, in your deviousness hidden by your false sympathy, no doubt planned this.

However, I neither care about what they think nor want your offer of friendship. Clenching my fist, I glare at you and clearly say, "Uzumaki, you can take your friendship and shove it up your ass."

There is a gasp from the group of girls seated near the front of the classroom. Your friends stare at me in shock, and you, your eyes gleam with suppressed mirth, and me – well, I just want to sock you in the eye.

"I see," you say, swallowing down your laughter but somehow still managing to sound sad. "Well, if you ever change your mind, I would still like to be your friend."

The words are so damned cliché I am nearly amused myself, but the students drink up every last drop of your falsely sweet words, admiring your determination to continue to befriend me despite my cold rejection. Your act is so revolting I want to puke.

"What a jerk," one of the girls mutters. "He's lucky Naruto's such a nice guy!"

"Yeah, he doesn't deserve it!"

My jaw tics. If only they knew. I have just made myself a permanent outcast, but I don't care, and I think you know. The bell rings. You stand there staring at me straight in the eye as it fades away before you step back.

"I'll talk to you later, Gaara," you say with a friendly wave, further deepening the students' belief of your kindness.

My glare hardens, but I simply sit down as a frazzled Iruka-sensei hurries in, apologizing for being late and looking shocked to see you here on time for once. I drown out the conversation and the lecture, staring blankly out the window and noting it might rain today, ignoring the feel of your amused eyes on me.

Uzumaki Naruto, you are a fake.

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A/N: Off to a rocky start, eh? Let me know what you think!


	2. The Offer of Friendship

A/N: I edited the first chapter, but nothing too big. Mostly grammar and stuff. Big thanks to _Paradox en Vogue_ for taking the time to go through most of the first chapter!

Warnings: A bit of nudity and groping. Nothing too explicit.

Credits to Kishimoto Masashi for the characters. The story is mine.

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**Chapter 2: The Offer of Friendship  
**

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Hands slide up my sides, sending a shiver of uncomfortable awareness through my spine. Warm palms stop at my shoulder blades and apply firm pressure. I try not to tense as my torso bends forward.

"Spread your legs a little more," you murmur hotly in my ear from behind, still with that firm pressure on my shoulders.

I grit my teeth, trying to ignore how my face heats up at your proximity, but grudgingly part my legs.

"Relax," you add, warm breath brushing against the shell of my ear. "You're too tense."

Rather than relaxing, I tense even more. There is no way I can relax in this position I have been coerced in to, especially with you touching me so freely.

"Gaara," this time you sound partly amused and partly exasperated. "_Relax_. I'm only touching you."

I send a glare over my shoulder, glimpsing your laughing blue eyes. You briefly squeeze my shoulders and attempt to push my torso nearly towards the ground.

"Stop _pushing_ so hard," I finally snap. "I'm not a damn acrobat!"

From the slight shaking of your hands, I can tell you're trying not to laugh, but it fails and you start to loudly guffaw. Fed up with your antics, I roughly jerk away and stand.

"W-wait," you chortle, reaching towards me. "We're not done, yet!"

"I'm done with you," I shoot over my shoulder venomously as I stomp away.

Physical education. My most hated class of the day. I ignore the curious stares from students, intent on getting as far away from the blond who won't leave me alone as I can.

"Sabaku-san, where are you going?"

Glancing back in irritation, I am slightly alarmed to see my monstrosity of a gym teacher advance towards me in all of his green glory. It is not the offending green jersey which causes students to unconsciously back away when he approaches nor is it the awful bowl-cut or even preposterously massive eyebrows – no, it is simply his eccentric personality. Actually, there is nothing simple about him; he is as strange as they come, and even I am a bit wary when he stops in front of me, towering over me by a few heads.

"We have not completed our stretches, yet!" the green creature exclaims far too loudly even though I am right in front of him. "You cannot maintain your springtime of youth if you fail to stretch!"

As always, his words make no sense. I just gaze up at him blankly.

"Come, Uzumaki-kun!" he whips towards you where you stand watching with an amused expression. "Show Sabaku-san the power of youth!"

Grinning, you jog over. "Sure thing, Guy-sensei."

"That's the spirit, boy!" the green oddity cries proudly before jubilantly bounding away to torment some other poor soul.

Sensing a movement at my side, I send you an icy glare, blaming you for this vile situation. You merely smile blithely and shrug.

"C'mon, let's finish those stretches, Gaara," you say, in all appearances innocent, yet the gleam in your eyes makes you look far too eager to torment me.

I stand there for a minute, fists clenched, frustrated because I know I cannot bring trouble to my siblings by punching your arrogant face. They already have enough on their hands, and I cannot be as childish as I was before coming to Konoha. Even so, the urge remains.

Without speaking to you, I turn and sit back down in the position I was in before, spreading my legs in a wide V-shape and stretching my arms straight forward so my palms are face-down on the grass. You come up behind me, pressing against my back once again, and I find my forehead nearly touching the blades of tickling grass. The stretch only lasts for half a minute, but the rarely stretched muscles and ligaments protests the hold. I remain stubbornly silent, though, not wishing to show how uncomfortable I am with both the stretch and having your hands on me.

The green thing calls out loudly for us to switch positions with our partners. I get up, muscles burning slightly, and impatiently wait for you to sit down. Once you are in the same position I had been in, I gingerly place my hands against your shoulder blades and push slightly.

"You can push harder, Gaara," you suggest, sending an impish smile over your shoulder.

My eyes narrow marginally, and I push hard, forcing you to nearly face-plant into the grass.

"Hey!" you cry indignantly, but there is still the slight edge of laughter in your voice.

I wonder if it is possible to break someone in half in this position if I push hard enough. Before I can test it out, the green abomination calls for a halt, much to my disappointment, beckoning to one of the students to help him show the rest of the class the next set of stretches. The student who hops up is like a miniature green abomination with the exact same hideous green jersey, shiny bowl-cut, and enormous eyebrows. His eyes are like round disks, shining with enthusiastic fervor as he demonstrates stretches with his larger counterpart, spewing the same nonsense about 'youthfulness'.

After the demonstration, the students begin the next set of stretches. I grimace inwardly, wondering why we must do _partner_ stretches of all things, and out of all of the students, how I ended up being partnered with _you_. Well, I didn't really wonder about that because I had watched the scene like watching a car wreck about to happen in slow motion.

After the green aberration had announced, to my horror, we would be stretching for twenty minutes with partners, you had refused all offers of partnership directed towards you and determinedly strode over to where I had been trying to unsuccessfully blend in with the background, loudly proclaiming, _"I'm going to be Gaara's partner!"_

The students were in awe of your declaration, especially after I had outright refused your 'friendship' to your face. They had glared at me, daring me to refuse you. I don't know how I managed not to sock you right then and there.

And now, here I am, sitting on the grass, my back pressing against yours with our elbows interlocked. I am bent forwards again with you leaning back. My hamstrings grow tauter the further you lean, and it doesn't help that I am tense and have been since we started.

The next few stretches are just as agonizingly painful. Not in the physical sense – but for someone like me who generally avoids any or all physical contact – well, I think these past twenty minutes I have touched someone more than I ever have in my seventeen years of life. After the stretches, I feel stiffer than ever, dreading the rest of the gym period of vigorous exercise as the class trudges over to the track. It's not that I am unfit – I actually have a lot of endurance despite my appearance – but I simply despise moving more than necessary and becoming sweaty and hot, especially in this humid climate.

"Ready, Gaara?" you ask, appearing on the outside friendly.

I don't bother to reply. I have had enough of you for one day, and having been forced to touch and be touched is an unpleasant experience I never want to go through again. Another student draws you into conversation, thankfully giving me some reprieve from your undesired company.

Conversation is limited soon afterwards, as the majority of students are too out of breath to even try speaking. Ten laps around the track, twenty-five sit-ups and push-ups, and three more laps later, I plop down on the tartan tiredly and drag in steady gulps of air, surveying the half-dying students sprawled out on the track. The only ones who appear to be fine are the two green-wearing bowl-cut doubles prancing merrily about in a disgustingly energetic manner. How can they still have energy after this? My legs feel like jelly, and the sticky feel of sweat causing my shirt to cling to my back makes me grimace. After this, I decide, I think I'll start skipping gym class. It serves no purpose for academic advancement – it is pure cruelty inflicted upon students by faculty to control them while they're too exhausted to protest.

"Sasuke," I hear a familiar groan to the right. "My legs no longer exist. I think I see a light in a dark, scary tunnel. Go on without me!"

Had I been anyone else, I might have rolled my eyes at your dramatic words as you lay splayed out face-down on the tartan track. I glance discreetly over to you, noticing the other student who you regularly hang out with seated next to you. Another well-known student, perhaps just as popular as or more popular than you – at least, with the general female population of the school. His hair and eyes are pure black, and his skin a pale alabaster, the exact opposite of your bright colors.

"Suck it up, idiot," he replies shortly, pushing his sweaty bangs out of his face.

"You're so mean, Sasuke!" you whine, batting half-heartedly at the disgruntled student.

The female students giggle at your antics, and you grin in reply. I turn my attention away, noticing most of the students have recovered by now and are starting to sit up and chat amongst themselves.

"You have all proven your youthfulness!" the green beast cries with far too much enthusiasm, giving a thumbs up at the students on the ground. "The power of youth prevails!"

"Yosh, Guy-sensei!" His smaller counterpart pumps a fist in the air, and the two high-five.

Everyone rolls their eyes at the display and begin rising to their feet. Thankfully, gym class is over. We trudge off the track back towards the school building.

The humidity causes me to sweat heavily; much more than the other students who are used to this climate. I miss Suna – the dryness, the sereneness, and the constant shifting feel of golden sand beneath my feet. I think I miss the sand the most. I have always liked the feel of the fine grains, like liquid silk, against my skin. The sand here is gritty and dark, filled with twigs and rocks. I long for the small gourd of desert sand I had taken before leaving Suna, hidden underneath my pillow at home. It is strangely comforting to sift my fingers through it. I kind of wish I had it with me now, but I had decided against bringing it to school in case some blunder causes me to lose it. The sand is precious – one of my only decent memories of my previous home.

"Uh, Gaara? You okay?"

I blink when my name is called. Glancing to the side, I see curious blue eyes looking at me, along with the other student's. My eyes narrow slightly, but I don't reply.

"You had a weird look on your face," you say as if I hadn't blatantly ignored you. "Is Guy-sensei's class too much for you? You don't look like the athletic type at all. If you're not feeling well, you should go to the nurse's office."

Curbing the scowl which threatens to appear, I speed up my stride in attempt to resist the urge to hurt someone. Namely a blond-haired blue-eye fake.

"Just leave him, Naruto," a girl says from behind me. "He obviously doesn't want to associate with us."

"Yeah," another pipes up. "What a stuck-up jerk. He should just be glad you're willing to talk to him after what he did!"

I don't hear your reply as I file inside the school building with the rest of the students, nor do I care to. Those girls – as well as every other student here – are mindless beasts, only brave when they're in groups. They wouldn't dare to speak up had they been alone. Their words mean nothing to me, nor will they ever, and the fact that they blindly follow a certain fake just makes me detest them even more.

The group splits as we all head to the locker rooms. The females blatantly ignore me or openly glare as they pass, but I barely even notice it. The males are more subtle about it, and this makes me slightly suspicious. From what I've observed so far, this group is always loud and rowdy. This can only mean they are planning something, and I figure it has to do with me. There is the slightest upsurge of curiosity, but I easily squish it down. Pranks are rather new to me; back in Suna, the students were too afraid to do anything to rile my notoriously vicious temper. Sure, I have tempered it down a bit in the last three and a half months since the main cause of my negativity remains in Suna, but that doesn't mean I won't retaliate if I see fit.

While they are trying to be subtle, the glances sent my way are far too obvious. I pretend to not notice as I turn the dial of the lock. The stares are almost anticipatory when I open the dull green locker door. Without warning – though I kind of expected it – something large and dark flies out and smacks me in the chest before falling to the ground with a wet _thud_. More wet thuds follow as the things fall from the locker. I stare down at the things squirming on the ground next to my feet.

Toads.

My first thought is: _where did they get the toads?_ before I turn my head to look at the pranking teens staring at me to the toads and back. Then, they burst into uproarious laughter, giving each other high-fives and smacking each other on the back. I simply stare at them, unsure why they think _toads_ in my locker is such a huge success. Other than the slight surprise of the first toad hitting my chest, I am otherwise unperturbed. Well, I glance down at the wet spot on my shirt in mild disgust, rather than just sweat, now I have toad slime on me. Judging from the wet flops from the toads and the water dripping out of the locker, these have been recently caught.

I reach into the locker, ignoring the raucous teen boys and the toads hopping about, pulling out my clothes and shoes. They are wet. Annoyance flashes through me. I have no other clothes except for the sweaty gym clothes I am currently wearing. At least I can shower to get rid of the stickiness.

Turning, I calmly walk towards the group. They stop laughing, watching silently as I pass by without even glancing at them. To acknowledge their prank would be acknowledging them. Their scowls of disappointment at my lack of reaction would be satisfying if I cared.

It isn't until I pass the last teen when I realize a certain blond isn't among them. The surprise is enough to make me pause and glance back. No blond. What did that mean? Did he not want to witness his own prank?

Suddenly, the door to the locker room swings open, and you come stomping in.

"I can't believe Guy-sensei made me—" you stop mid-sentence when you see the group of boys staring back at you. Your surprised gaze goes to them, down to the toads still hopping about, and then to me holding my wet clothes and shoes. "What's going on?"

The teens shuffle about, looking anywhere but at you. Now it's my turn to be confused, although my facial expression remains impassive. What is going on?

"Why are there toads in the locker room? And why are Gaara's clothes all wet—" you stop again and stare hard at the guilty-looking teens. "Kiba, what did you do?"

The scruffy-looking teen scowls defiantly. I recall him. He's the one with the big white dog. I notice for the first time red upside-down triangle marks on both cheeks. I wonder if it's paint.

"We were just playing around. No harm done," Kiba explains, trying to appear blameless in this situation. The other teens murmur their consent.

"That's not playing around. It's bullying!" you insist, glaring at them.

The chastised teens fall silent, all looking shamefaced. I can only stare at you in confusion, wondering what I missed. Is this not your prank? Why are you acting as if you have nothing to do with it? I don't know what to believe, but I know I cannot trust you.

"Sheesh, Naruto. It's not a big deal," Kiba finally says and turns towards me. "No hard feelings, right, Sabaku? We didn't mean any harm."

I just stare coolly at him, neither making a move to accept or deny his claims. After scarcely a minute, his eyes fall to the side uncomfortably. It's not the first time someone has looked away from my steady gaze, nor will it be the last. Kankuro told me once that my eyes are unnerving, scary even, though he'd said it in a joking manner so as not to rile my temper.

"Whatever," Kiba mutters, still avoiding my gaze. "We're gonna go to class before we're late."

The others quickly begin changing out of their P.E. clothes. Disinterested in the whole affair, I turn away back towards the showers, picking up a towel in the clean towels tub on the way. It seems I have no choice but to wear my P.E. clothes afterwards. I'm not looking forward to it, but at least I only have three more class periods today.

Stepping into the one of the bathroom stalls, I quickly strip, securing the small white towel around my waist. I leave my dirty clothes balled up on one of the benches near the sinks and make my way towards the shower room.

I despise public showers, but since I don't want to spend the rest of the day smelling like sweat and feeling sticky, I grudgingly step into the room, avoiding the open public shower space and finding a shower cubicle. It's small and cramped and looks like it needs to be scrubbed down at least three times, but it is much more preferable than standing out there naked and vulnerable.

Since I have no soap or shampoo, I have to make do with plain water. Slinging the towel over the door, I turn the knobs and wait for the water to trickle out. After a few minutes, I realize I can't even have a decent shower either; the water is lukewarm and doesn't appear to want to get any warmer. Humid or not, I prefer not to have cold showers. Konoha's appeal withers even more in my eyes – not that it had any appeal in the first place.

It must have been the sound of running water blocking out the sound of approaching footsteps, but when I hear a knock on the cubicle door about ten minutes later, I nearly jump in surprise.

"Gaara?"

I stare at the locked door.

"Gaara? I know you're in there!" you call, knocking louder.

I stare harder, hoping you give up and leave. No such luck.

"Hey, answer me! Are you dying in there or something? Should I come in and check?"

"What?" I finally growl, unwilling to take the chance of you actually trying to barge in here.

You chuckle. "Sheesh, that wasn't hard was it? I just wanted to check if you're okay."

I stay silent, wondering why you haven't left yet. The bell had already rung. I will be late to class, and I'm guessing you will, too, but I don't really care. I'll just make it up later anyway.

"Sorry about Kiba and the others. They're not bad guys if you get to know them," you continue as if I'm not trying to ignore you. I wonder why you defend them? It's not as if you're fond of them, either. "They probably won't bother you anymore, but you should try to be friendlier at least. Everyone thinks you're a weird, antisocial, creepy-looking guy. You probably shouldn't glare so much, and maybe you should lay off the eyeliner, you know? Makes you look kinda emo, but I'm not judging. By the way, your tattoo is pretty cool, though, but why on your forehead?"

My scowl deepens the more you blather. I do _not_ wear eyeliner! These black rings around my eyes are birthmarks, except they have grown thicker over the years because of my lack of sleep. It's offensive when people mistake them for make-up because they're too cowardly to take a closer look at my face – though the glare _is _here for a reason: to keep idiots like you away. And the tattoo is no business of yours, nor will it ever be.

I turn off the shower, causing you to pause in your random chatter. Pulling the towel hanging on the door, I wrap it around my hips and open the door, slightly surprised to see you are standing right in the entryway with a crooked grin. I notice you already changed out of your gym clothes, wearing a blinding orange and blue zipped-up jacket and olive-colored cargo shorts with the blue sandals.

"Hey," you say, eyes roving slowly over me before going back to my face. "Your hair looks like blood when it's wet."

Blood? The statement startles me before I quickly regain my composure. My hair is a rather deep auburn, more of a rusty reddish color than brown like my brother's. I've heard 'red' more often, but 'blood' is new. Instead of responding, I glare at you, my eyes clearly telling you to move out of the way or face the consequences, but you remain standing there like an idiot.

"Your skin is really pale, too," you frown. "I thought you were from Suna? Wouldn't you be tan or something? Even I'm darker than you!"

Somehow I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Why do you insist on talking about useless things? Obviously, I wouldn't expose my skin to the harsh glare of the sun in a desert, but it seems you're less intelligent than I initially gave you credit for. Maybe I was just seeing things before. Staring at you full in the face for the first time, I notice odd markings on your cheeks. Three thin streaks, like whiskers, on each cheek. I quickly dismiss the peculiar appearance. There are more important matters at hand.

"Move," I say when it looks as if you don't plan to for the next century.

You grin, a sly look appearing in your eyes, immediately alerting me of an upcoming remark or action likely to piss me off. My glare hardens. Usually by now, people would be scurrying off in fear of my anger, but you seem oblivious to it. I never thought I'd want my renowned brutal reputation in Suna back. You'd be shaking in your boots – sandals, whatever – if you knew what I am capable of.

"I don't want to," you drawl out, hooking your thumbs in your pockets in a relaxed pose. "I want to talk to you more."

I shoot you an irritated glare. What are you going on about now?

"Move," I repeat. Standing here dripping wet is starting to get on my nerves, and not to mention it's a bit chilly now. I hate the cold as much as I hate the humidity.

"You're different than them," you say, your voice suddenly soft.

"What?" The change in your tone makes me accidentally reply.

"Let's be friends," you smile brightly as if you hadn't been off character a moment ago. "I mean _actual_ friends this time."

This time I stare at you like you just offered a severed head to me. You take in my expression and laugh.

"You don't have to look so disgusted – I'm not that bad, am I? Wait, don't answer that. C'mon, Gaara," you cajole, still smiling impishly. "I promise you won't regret it."

"Move or you'll regret it," I tell him rather than replying to his idiotic proposal.

"Please?" you pout, trying to look cute and failing miserably. It just makes you look even more stupid.

Giving you a hard glare, I step forward. Fine. If you won't move, I'll just move you myself. Putting my palm on your shoulder, I push you like I'm pushing open an extra door. You're startled enough that you actually step aside. I brush past you, intent on getting my clothes and finding a quiet place until this period ends and the next begins.

At least, that's what I have planned before a firm grip snags my wrist and swings me around. The sudden movement along with the slippery tiles makes me fall into you. Feeling the towel slip as well, I hastily grab a hold of it while bracing my forearm against your chest. Your grip shifts to my upper arms, but somehow you end up unbalancing yourself when I crash into you and we're tumbling towards the ground.

"Shit!"

The fall isn't as painful as I expected – probably because I landed on you. You're muttering expletives and holding the back of your head where you had slammed it into the cubicle wall.

"Fuck, that hurts!" you complain, squeezing your eyes shut in an effort to abide the pain.

I don't bother holding back the smirk as I attempt to sit up. Ha, serves you right! My triumph is short-lived when a sharp pain jolts through my ear.

"Ow!" I hiss, wincing, immediately setting my head back down on your chest.

Recovering from your fall rather quickly, you attempt to sit up as well.

"Don't move," I order, pushing you back down.

You stop. "What?"

"It's…caught," I say, wincing again when you shift.

"What's caught?" you ask.

"My stud," I tell you irritably, reaching up and inserting a hand between your chest and my head in attempt to dislodge the small piece of metal. Damn threads.

"Stud?" I feel you move slightly to get a better look. "You have earrings?"

"They're studs," I correct, growling when your movement pulls it again. Two tiny silver studs in each ear, almost unnoticeable unless you looked. I had gotten them several years ago sometime during my middle school years. I tense when you suddenly brush my damp hair back and trace the studs on the other side. "Don't touch me!"

"Calm down. We're already touching way more than that. In fact, I think we're on the intimate level already! Oh, and you lost your towel," you say, sounding amused. "Nice view from here, actually."

I freeze, suddenly noticing the excessive air flow brushing my lower parts. Glancing down, I glimpse the towel lying forlornly a little to the left. I am abruptly aware of the position we are in as well – almost like lovers as I straddle you lying on the tiles, my head forced to your chest with my stud caught on your damned orange hoodie. For the first time since I can remember, a deep blush finds its way from my chest to my face. Absolute mortification cannot describe how I feel right now.

As if sensing the tension in my muscles, you place a hand on my head and firmly hold it down before I can tear it away. "Don't jerk up; you'll rip out the earring and bleed all over the place."

"Don't touch me!" I repeat, not caring if I _do_ bleed all over the place. The hell I'm staying in this position!

"Relax, Gaara. We're both guys – even if you do have an ass like a girl." You laugh when I blindly swipe at you. "What? It's true!"

"Fuck you!" I snarl, finally reaching the last of my patience. That bastard! I do _not_ have an ass like a girl's!

"Maybe another time," you say conversationally, causing my face to heat up even more – this time in anger. "First we should untangle your earring—"

"Stud," I snap, scowling darkly. I can almost see you roll your eyes.

"Right. Stud, earring, same thing. Anyway, I can't see it from here 'cause your head's in the way. I'll try not to move while you get it out. And don't pull the threads out of my jacket – I've had it for a long time, and I really like this one!"

If I was standing and had good leverage, I think I would have punched you through the wall. You think I can see it any better than you? My head's twisted to the side! And the only reason I'm stuck is because your damned jacket is old and threadbare!

I don't say any of this, though, because I rarely shout in anger – well, except for just a minute ago. I had a perfectly legit reason, too! How dare he insult my ass! Not that I was vain or anything about it, but still!

Grumbling inwardly, I reach between us and fiddle with my stud, feeling a few threads hooked on it. To my dismay, it had somehow looped back and caught onto the tiny metal stopper holding it together, and from the feel of the tangled threads, it had even looped around onto the second stud. Must have been when some blond ass-insulting bastard kept moving around when I kept telling him not to. What kind of material was this jacket made out of anyway? The threads were sort of thick yet they were strong and silky-feeling. I'm not too sure about clothing materials, so I just work on untangling the stubborn threads, uncaring if I destroy the jacket or not. It's tricky, because I have to shuffle a bit so the thread doesn't pull so tightly. Fully concentrated on the slow process, I almost forget about the blond beneath me.

"Did you get it, yet?" you ask after a few minutes, sounding oddly strained.

Bastard. I'm the one doing all of the work! I am a little surprised you had stayed quiet this long, though.

"Stop moving."

I hear you huff but you settle down obediently. It takes a few more minutes, but I manage to untangle the first stud and move onto the next one. If I can get the stopper extricated, then I can just take off the stud, find a way to stealthily kill you, and dump your body in the ditch I discovered not too far off the school grounds before the next period begins. Satisfied with my foolproof plan, I nimbly unhook the last thread in the stopper and pull out the stud from my earlobe, sitting up triumphantly. Now for the kill.

At least, that _was_ supposed to happen, but you suddenly sit upright, making me slide down and unintentionally straddle your lap. I'm about to strangle you when I feel something odd poking between my lower cheeks, and then my eyes widen into saucers when I realize what it is. Before I can react, two callused, warm hands grope my bare buttocks.

"It _is_ like a girl's ass," you say, eyes wide in wonder.

"Fucking pervert!"

My fist makes contact with your cheek with a satisfying _smack_. Your head knocks into the cubicle again, and you curl on the ground, cussing like a sailor and holding what is no doubt the largest goose egg of your life. I jump up, snatching the towel off the ground and hurry to grab my clothes.

Uzumaki Naruto, you are not only a fake, but a damn pervert as well!

* * *

A/N: Ehehe, I didn't plan for the shower scene; it just sort of happened and I went with the flow. It's the golden rule when you have a shower scene: something perverted_ must_ occur! *flies away on rainbows and bunnies*


	3. The Cunning Fox

A/N: Expect longer lapses between updates. There's nothing I can do about it…but I will continue this story for sure!

Warnings: None

Credits to Kishimoto Masashi for the characters. The story is mine.

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Cunning Fox**

* * *

After the incident in the locker room, I successfully avoided a perverted blond fake for three days. Not even the sight of the ugly bruise on your cheek satisfies me.

In all honesty, I really want to kill you in the most painful way possible. Admittedly, my retaliation for your unspeakable act has been delayed because I have never experienced this before. Like pranks, sexual situations are new to me since no one would have dared to approach me.

Which is why I sit, hunched over at my desk, burning with the need to wring your neck until you breathe your last but reluctant to do so because I am honestly confused, humiliated, and just plain pissed. My siblings, having learned long ago, have been carefully tiptoeing around me for the past three days, having noticed my incessant black mood. I think they're fearful of asking what caused it, but I don't feel inclined to tell them.

I'm rather surprised you haven't told anyone of the degrading incident. Instead, you behave as if nothing had occurred, laughing off inquiries directed at the prominent bruise on your cheek. The constant feel of your eyes on me has not diminished in the least, yet I have detected the slightest change in your gaze since the incident.

Something darker, making you appear almost predatory.

I frown, staring down at my notebook filled with notes, scribbles, and doodles, completely ignoring the lecture by some teacher whose name I can't recall. I can't understand the sudden change. Before, your stares were only mocking and amused, but now I am unable to figure out what else has suddenly appeared in your eyes. An unfamiliar sensation overcomes me whenever I feel it.

Wariness.

I've never felt it so prominently before, and for some reason, my natural instincts have kicked up, warning me away from your strange stare. Which is also another reason why I have yet to retaliate.

Uzumaki Naruto, you are an enigma to me. More so than anyone I have ever encountered before. One moment I think I have you figured out, and then you do something wholly unexpected, making me rethink my previous analysis of you.

It's frustrating to say in the least. Here I was – not even three days ago – trying to ignore your existence, but now here I am, pondering over it in the middle of class.

A snicker reaches my ear, and I turn the slightest millimeter towards the sound, immediately recognizing it. It appears you are not paying attention to the lecture, either, having been whispering with your friends for the past half hour.

I turn my attention back to the scenery outside, the frown tugging further at the corners of my mouth, inwardly angry at myself for becoming so attuned to the sound of your voice. It is purely for avoidance purposes, yet it annoys me to no end to hear your perky voice within a crowd and immediately recognize it.

"Uzumaki-kun, Inuzuka-kun, please stop talking while I'm lecturing," the teacher says, pausing mid-sentence in his lecture and pushing up his dark round glasses.

"Sorry, Ebisu-sensei," Kiba calls out, not looking the least bit sorry as other students titter at the display.

The teacher, whose name I already forget, sniffs disdainfully and returns to his lecture with one last warning look. He obviously holds no love towards the two, constantly picking on you and your scruffy companion during class, as well as other students he deems miscreants – most of whom hail from your little group.

Oddly enough, he has singled me out as a delinquent as well, perhaps because of my bright-colored hair, piercings, and tattoo. It only took one glare for him to back off his harping, though, so it is of no consequence to me what he thinks. Still, he frowns in contempt at my appearance when he thinks I am not looking.

Twenty minutes later, the bell rings. Students immediately gather their belongings and hurry to their next class or stop in the hallways to frolic with their friends before heading to class. Since I have P.E. next, I'm not in any hurry. These past few days I'd discovered hanging out at the rooftop is a good way to pass time until P.E. is over.

I wait until everyone leaves the classroom before picking up my backpack and slinging it over one shoulder. It isn't until I take a couple steps when I realize I'm not alone.

Freezing, I'm startled to meet curious blue eyes looking directly into mine from across the room. The sudden eye contact shoots a peculiar zing through me, and we look at each other for another split second before I blink once. Turning and walking down the aisle between the desks, I studiously ignore your stare following me.

"Gaara."

The sound of my name makes me pause briefly when I reach the door, but I dismiss it just as quickly and step out.

But not before I feel a hand encase my upper arm. Startled, I stiffen, effectively stopping in my tracks. Turning my head slowly, I stare down at the hand on my arm and send a glare behind me.

"Let go," I growl.

"No," you say simply.

My eyes widen slightly, surprised at your blunt answer. I turn to face you fully, the familiar glare falling over my features as I tilt my head up to look you in the eye. You smile at this, looking mischievous, but your hold on my arm remains.

Although I'm reluctant to admit it, I am wary, the tiny hairs on my arms and neck rising in awareness at the feel of your hand on me. This is an impressive feat, seeing as how I've never felt so alert around anyone before.

"I'm not gonna bite," you say, noticing my guarded look and chuckling in amusement as you release my arm. "I just have something I want to give you, but since you've been avoiding me I couldn't give it to you."

My brows furrow at this. What did you want to give me? I watch suspiciously as you reach into your pocket, pulling out a folded tissue and holding it out to me. Rather than take it, I just stare at you, face wiped clean of expression.

"Take it," you say, holding it out stubbornly. "It's yours."

Frowning slightly, I slowly reach up and take it, half expecting it to be full of snot or something. I grimace inwardly at the thought as I unfold the tissue. What I find glinting in the folds, however, surprises me.

It's my stud.

I had forgotten it in my haste to leave the locker room, leaving one earlobe missing its companion stud. I hadn't bothered to go back and look for it, unwilling to go back to the shower room where I'd been humiliated.

Looking back up at you, I'm unsure how to feel about this. You simply smile at me, white teeth bared in a picture of nonchalant generosity. My eyes narrow in suspicion, but even_ I_ have at least some amount of manners.

"…Thanks," I mutter, silently appalled at myself for saying such a thing to you as I pocket the tissue.

"Sure, no problem," you reply, a slight smirk uplifting the corner of your mouth and immediately irking me.

A cough behind you makes us both look back into the classroom. It's the teacher – Ebi-sensei, or whatever – standing disapprovingly behind us and pushing up his round glasses. It appears both you and I completely forgot about him.

"Stop loitering in my doorway," he scolds, obviously annoyed by our presence. "You're both late to class."

"Our bad, Ebisu-sensei," you say, smiling amiably before turning back to me. "Let's go, Gaara."

I frown at being addressed like we're friends or something. Rather than comment on it, I turn and walk away, hoping you leave for P.E. and leave me in peace.

"Hey, Gaara, are you gonna skip gym class today?" you ask, catching up to me and walking at my side.

I don't reply, wondering how I can make it to the roof without you in tow.

"Are you ignoring me again? It's not nice to ignore people, Gaara!" you whine. "I thought we were friends!"

This catches my attention, and I send a glower your way.

"I am _not_ your friend," I tell him.

I realize my mistake when, instead of being discouraged, you seem pleased I spoke. Your eyes brighten considerably as you grin.

"Yeah, we are! We got well acquainted with each other a few days ago," you say smugly.

It takes a moment for me to understand, and then my eyes widen when I realize what you're referring to. Against my will, my cheeks heat up as I recall the humiliating incident.

"Stop following me," I say instead, swiftly turning away so you don't see my pink cheeks and speeding up.

"Are you blushing? That's so cute!" you crow, laughing as you easily catch up.

_Cute?_ I could strangle you for that, but seeing as all of my responses are met with a solid wall of idiocy, I figure it's best to not reply. I'll exact my vengeance later.

_Or maybe now,_ I think to myself once I reach the stairs leading to the rooftop with you behind me, chattering like a squirrel. I wonder if I can discreetly push you off the roof and claim it was suicide. It sounds like a plan to me, so I head up the stairs and open the door leading outside. I don't think students are supposed to be out here, considering there is a lock on it and a sign reading, '_Keep Out_', but the lock was easily breakable and no one bothers to monitor the area.

I immediately walk towards the fencing surrounding the rooftop. Maybe I can get you to climb it somehow and push you off.

"Oh, hey, Shikamaru!"

Or not. My irritation increases. I can't push you off with a witness around.

Laying nonchalantly on the rooftop on his back with his arms crossed behind his head is a student I don't recall seeing before. All I can make out is black hair tied in a high, spiky ponytail. He glances over to us upon hearing you speak.

"Naruto," he acknowledges, getting up on one elbow and eyeing me curiously. "And the new kid."

I level him with a flat look, crossing my arms over my chest. He had inadvertently ruined my plans with his presence, and I'm not too pleased. Uncertain of the glare, he glances at me warily but wisely backs off, turning his attention to you.

"Are you skipping gym, too?" Naruto asks the student.

"Yeah," he replies, slouching in his sitting position. "I heard Guy-sensei was going to make us do relay races today."

I hadn't heard about this, so I was grateful I wasn't suffering with the other unsuspecting students. The roof is too crowded for my tastes, however, so I turn and head back towards the door.

"Where are you going, Gaara?"

I don't bother to acknowledge your query, since it is none of your business anyway.

"Wait up, Gaara!" you call, hurrying over to me.

I glance back, glowering at you. It seems you still haven't gotten the message no matter how blatantly I project it. Turning, I fix you with a hard glare, arms crossed and feet spread apart in a rigid stance.

Noticing this, you slow your approach but maintain your impish smile.

"Stop. Following. Me." I enunciate slowly and clearly. If ignoring you does not work, I have no problem telling you off.

"Why?" you ask, folding your arms behind your head and grinning at the irritation flashing in my eyes.

My lips press into a thin line, frustration seeping out as my fists tighten from where they are crossed. You obviously know why.

A slight movement from behind you momentarily brings my attention to the student still seated on the ground. It appears as if he's trying to silently sneak away, but I don't care about him. Switching my attention back to you, I eye the bruise on your cheek and think of adding another, fresher bruise. This time to your entire face.

"Uzumaki—"

"Naruto," you interrupt. "All my friends call me Naruto."

I unconsciously purse my lips in annoyance, noticing your eyes fly towards the tiny movement but easily disregard it. I don't want to repeat myself because it's aggravating and you apparently don't understand I'm not your friend and never will be.

Figuring it's best to end this pointless conversation, I turn away and resume my exit. This time, you stay where you are. I don't even have to look back to see the triumphant look on your face. I will not resign myself to a fate of your endless hounding, however. My retaliation will be brutal, and you will regret having ever met me.

Leisurely descending the stairs, I contemplate how to exact my vengeance. Since you're so willing to follow me around, there will be plenty of opportunities to dispose of you. I just have to figure out a way to do it anonymously since the majority of the school knows of my animosity towards you.

Deep in thought, I almost miss the footsteps heading my way. I pause on the stairs and peer down, catching a glimpse of what's-his-name-Ebi-sensei walking towards the staircase. It looks as if he's only passing by, and I would have been safe had another teacher not been walking in the opposite direction towards Ebi-sensei. Both teachers stop to speak to each other, right in front of the staircase. If they look up, they'll see me right away, and I'm not in the mood to get caught and possibly get a detention for skipping class.

I carefully step back, out of sight behind the next staircase. The muted conversation below doesn't pause. I glance about. The only escape route is up.

It is easy eluding the teachers, but I have no choice but to stay on the roof until this period is over. It's humiliating to return after I had just left. Stopping at the slightly opened door to the roof, I reach to open it when I hear voices on the other side. Pausing, I lean forward slightly, catching a few words.

"…scary…don't know why you…friends…with him…"

The jumble of words makes sense after a second, and I realize the other student on the roof is talking to you. About me.

Curiosity has me peering through the crack, seeing you facing the other student with your back to me and conveniently blocking the other student's view of the door where I am.

"…not that scary," you were saying. "I think he's interesting."

I scowl at this. You make it sound as if I'm a newly discovered organism you're fascinated with, and it doesn't please me one bit.

"So? It's obvious he hates you," the other student grumbles.

"Yeah, but I can get him to change his mind," you say confidently.

The other student snorts at this, and I almost do as well. Arrogance does not even begin to describe your irrational words.

"It might not end up how you plan it," the other student warns.

I'm starting to think this student may be aware of your real personality. Since he wasn't there during the prank, I hold no hostility towards him. You, on the other hand…

"I know," you chuckle unconcernedly. "I'm not as smart as you, Shikamaru – even though you're failing, too."

The other student – Shikamaru – makes a noncommittal sound.

"Besides," you continue. "He's being left alone now."

"You're crazy, you know that?" Shikamaru points out. "I heard about what the other guys did."

"You did? Did Chōji tell you?"

"Yeah. Sounds like Kiba left with his tail between his legs after you berated him in front of the other guys."

"Hey, it's not my fault! _I_ didn't tell him to do it!"

"Yeah, but you may as well have."

The conversation is confusing, but I think they're referring to the prank. A nagging feeling pushes at me, like I'm missing something from the conversation I should have picked up.

"It's not like I telepathically told them to prank him. I just waited until it happened. You make me sound like an evil mastermind," you tease the other student.

"You probably are," Shikamaru shoots back, but it sounds like a playful jab with an underlying truthfulness to it. "How troublesome. What's so special about the new kid anyway?"

I lean in closer, curious about your answer.

"None of your business, Shikamaru," you tell him blithely.

I'm slightly disappointed with your answer, but it doesn't matter much to me anyway.

The other student sighs. "Whatever. Just stay out of trouble, Naruto."

The conversation grows muted as the two wander towards the fencing, and I try to make sense of the dialogue. Frowning as I lean away from the door, I piece together the bits of information from day one.

You had doggedly pursued me in some inane mission to 'befriend' me despite knowing I did not care for your false offer of friendship. Each of your pathetic attempts had been coldly rebuffed. The last time had been in front of all of the students when you had followed me to class that one day, and from then on I had known I would become an outcast. It hadn't bothered me in the least despite knowing I would be hostilely targeted after publically rejecting such a popular student. From your words just now, it appears you had known this and had been waiting for it to happen.

The nagging feeling was beginning to get irritating as I thought back to the prank. You had been conveniently gone when it had occurred, and then you had walked in, staring at everyone in shock despite knowing it was supposed to happen. I would have expected a triumphant smirk rather than you chastising your 'friends'. Why would you do…

My eyes widen as the missing puzzle piece fall into place. You had done it purposely! The shock, the anger, it had all been feigned!

I stare in utter shock at the door where you nonchalantly stand with the other student, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that you had purposely fooled your own 'friends' into pranking me so they won't prank me anymore. In doing so, I have been completely and utterly isolated. The male students will no longer bother me, fearing losing your good graces. By just you snubbing one, a student can be easily cast aside like I was. Your deviousness is astounding, to say in the least. I don't know whether to be impressed or disgusted, but I admit to a millimeter of grudging respect towards your lack of action leading to the most convenient outcome for you.

Uzumaki Naruto, you are not only a fake and a pervert, but a cunning fox as well!


End file.
